You Am I hit Ballarat. Ballarat hits Bruce

That he looked like the lovechild of Keith Richards, Noel Fielding and Larry Love with a hint of Rod Stewart and was wearing a top and tie combo that Colonel Sanders would have been proud to sport merely added to the merriment. That the crowd created unintentional moments of South Park humour by yelling: “TIMMY!” throughout didn’t hurt either.

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Richmond: the Clapham of the south?

Worse still, it felt like a night out in Clapham, home to the tiresome boors churned out by the UK’s public school system as they spend their first few years post-university chucking up in the street outside bland, uber-chain bars and restaurants, spending the money they’ve earnt at their respective bank / consultancy firm / marketing department on nights out with friends called Squelch and Tiddles while they wait to accrue enough cash to move to a small mansion in the Home Counties and squirt out children called Squiddles and Bump all the while ensuring class hatred bubbles along nicely.

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The loveable rogue: impromptu entertainment on Melbourne’s trains

A can of Woodstock in one hand, a half-smoked rollie hanging from his lips and his worldly belongings threatening to spill from the plastic bag in his other hand, he clatters his way down the aisle

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